Shadowing Phantoms
by Shy Girl1988
Summary: "What happened Davies, did you use to come here every day after school to have some old hen peck at your cherry? Spend your lonesome teenage lesbo years here because lesbians just don't exist in little Ohio towns?"
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea and plot. _

_A.N. The original idea for this story was inspired by a fic I read on winglin years ago, called "Truly, Madly, Deeply." I've also attempted to write this story once before for a different fandom, but found it inappropriate to continue. So this is my second attempt with this idea of a Midnight Maiden. _

_I wrote this a while ago, and am determined to complete it this time round. Tell me what you think._

_

* * *

_

**Shadowing Phantoms**

Chapter 1: Lusting Darkness

* * *

"Ugh. This place is atrocious," groaned a perturbed blonde, as she simultaneously stepped over a rotted table, whilst dodging a hazardous broken light bulb, dangling from what was left of the ceiling.

Her compact frame did nothing to help her manoeuvre through the deteriorating sorry excuse for a room, if it could even be called a room. Taking in the various pieces of furniture: the lawn mower, refrigerator, half of a washing machine; she firmly believed that in its past life the room must've served as a type of storage room. Although, the rusting chains hanging from the same ceiling, left little, or rather too much to the imagination, considering the buildings long standing history.

"_Generations of 'working' girls have been shackled by those chains by any paying gent..or lady..."_ Her perfectly sculpted brows furrowed at the afterthought, visibly shaking her head to literally rid the image of herself bound by those chains from her mind. She was here on business, and so help her she will knock some sense into that Davies woman, as soon as she can find her. "Where's my cell phone..." she mumbled aloud rifling through her purse. Phone light was better than no light, and she was not going to risk getting electrocuted by switching random switches on and off.

"Do not turn that on!" came a raspy growl.

The tiny blonde turned towards the furthest wall, where she can vaguely make out a ratty mattress thrown carelessly against it. She could see the shadow of a person. "Leigh?" she called out to the figure, gripping her phone tightly, as if it were a stake.

"Just keep it dark," the other occupant responded. She heard a sigh. "Please. Just keep it dark."

Brianne Giles, released the breath she didn't know she was holding, "Ashley, do you really think this is the best investment? With the money we're putting into fixing this place up, we'd be lucky to break even." Straight to the point, it's the only way to communicate with one Ashley Davies, "besides, I hear this place use to be a-" she paused, "you know, whore house." She half whispered. Clearing her throat, "From a marketing perspective-"

"I didn't ask for your perspective Brie," came the snippy reply. "I want the hotel built here."

"Surely that a place overlooking a lake or some type of waterfront-"

An eerie silence followed, causing Brianne to shift uncomfortably. Another sigh disrupted the stillness. "This place has a lot of sentimental value."

That was more of an explanation from Ashley Davies, than Brianne ever expected. The woman just didn't explained herself. There was no speaking to Ashley once her mind was set. Ashley Davies gets what Ashley Davies wants. That much she knew. Brianne circled the chains, fingering it playfully, smirking at her friend, "What happened Davies, did you use to come here every day after school to have some old hen peck at your cherry? Spend your lonesome teenage lesbo years here because lesbians just don't exist in little Ohio towns?"

There was no reply. The brunette sat on the stained mattress, her head in her hands, trying to capture her past, recapture the ghost, recapturing the memory...this time not letting her go. She could still hear her voice, her smile, her expressions. Funny how the dark enhanced the other senses by tenfold. So much so she that she swore, she could still hear every sigh, every moan, every smile, she could taste the lust.

"_You're tense today," the words mumbled against the skin of her neck. The figure curling up against the brunette's side, removing the unlit cigarette from her lips, snapping it, carelessly tossing it onto the floor._

_Ashley grumbled a curse under her breath as she pulled away from the nude and unusually clingy form, to seek another fag on their makeshift nightstand, that made of a cardboard box. No light existed in their realm. It was unnecessary. Just as she placed the new cigarette between her lips she was pounced and pinned back on the mattress._

"_What's wrong, Ash?" No one dared to call her by such an intimate nickname. _

_Ashley lazily brought her right hand towards them, a lighter firm in her grasp. She could feel her lover frown, and immediately complied to the silent disapproval, letting the cigarette fall from her lips. The lighter remained in close proximity to their faces, "I want to see you."_

_Silence. _

"_Can I?" She made to snap open the zippo. Her left arm securing her hold on the nude girl above her. The lighter dangerously closer to the face she longed to see._

_Ashley felt the other body, the one that had become an extension of her own, tense up, struggling to pull away. "I'm leaving..." _

_The second the cool air touched her bare skin, when the warmness dissipated, Ashley immediately whipped the lighter across the room. "THERE! It's gone! Don't go!" she blindly reached out to meet nothingness. She'd grown accustomed to manoeuvring with, regardless of the darkness. Ashley despised the dark, but tolerated it, craved it because of 'her'. Because 'she' wouldn't have it, wouldn't have Ashley any other way. And Ashley craved 'her', her warmth. Needed 'her' far more than any drug. _

_Tonight, Ashley felt her physically, but she couldn't feel her. Not completely, not wholly. She felt distant tonight. She held back. Ashley couldn't feel all of her, couldn't thoroughly possess her. Tonight was darker than usual. It was lonely, which made for desperate and sloppy sex. Restrained even. An inexplicable dread had washed over Ashley, a silent desperation embodied her while she explored the body she knew so well, pleadingly ravish with it, pushing it to its peak. The security was in jeopardy. And she needed to salvage it but couldn't. It was unsalvageable. Inevitable. Ashley was frustrated._

_Ashley opened her mouth to call a name, but no words would come. She knew of none. None to describe, to identify this bed mate of hers. The simplest thing, and yet-the one person who made her life bearable had no name. No face. "Where are you going?" Ashley asked, listening to the ruffling of clothes being hazardously pulled on, arms roughly punctuating through non-cooperative sleeves, the zipping of a zipper on jeans._

_Not gauging any response, anger replaced her restlessness. It wasn't fair. She clearly knew who Ashley was. At first it was alluring making love in the dark, never knowing the other person's face, just knowing the other person, just being, feeling, mind, body, and soul. Now, now all it felt like was a power imbalance. An imbalance that left Ashley vulnerable. This girl held Ashley in her palm. She knew Ashley in all possible ways. "I could've lit that lighter anytime! I didn't have to ask!" Ashley declared. Wasn't that enough? Respect. As curious as Ashley was, she never forced anything onto the other girl. The room felt colder, she could tell by the lack of ruffling that she was already fully clothed now. "Listen to me when I'm talking to you!" Ashley stubbornly demanded. Most people hung onto her every word. Ashley Davies was not one to be ignored._

"_I'm not your little whore, Ashley! I won't come and go as you please."_

_Ashley smirked bitterly, at the word, whore. Others touched what was hers, others saw what she couldn't see. It only fuelled her anger. "You prove that point so well by coming to me every night for a good fucking. We both know those saps, those johns of yours don't gives a rats ass about your pleasure. A whore like you needs more to be remotely satisfied."_

_*Smack*_

_The sound echoing an eternity before Ashley registered what had just happened. Nobody has ever, ever laid a finger on her. The uneasiness erupted tenfold, encompassing her whole being. She could feel her lover standing there just as stunned as she was. She didn't know how she knew. She just knew that the other was silently crying._

"_I..." Ashley Davies did not apologise. Ever._

_She felt the other body turn away once again, to leave. _

_Ashley did not want her gone. She needed her warmth tonight. Every night._

_She stopped. _

_Ashley grew hopeful._

"_I didn't want to say goodbye like this Ash."_

_Goodbye? They've never said goodbye to each other. She'd always just leave whilst Ashley slept, whilst Ashley dreamt of waking the next morning, imagining the natural light illuminate her lover's face. Her blood ran cold. She leapt towards the retreating form pinning her against the wall. Her bare breasts pressed upon the stranger's back. "I forbid it. I forbid goodbyes between us. You're mine. Mine. You are mine."_

"_I'm not yours Ash. I do not belong to you. I never was."_

_Liar! Ashley wanted to scream. They belonged to each other. They were made for each other. They needed each other. Ashley needed her. But Ashley felt her sane half firmly take possession of her hands, "Someone's waiting for me."_

_Ashley felt her chest constrict painfully. Cruelly reminding her the reality of the situation, who 'she' was. Or rather who Ashley thought she was. Abandoned for a john. Bitterness encompassed her entire being, keeping her from catching the waver, the hesitancy in the voice she adored so much. What Ashley thought was a firm locking embrace keeping what was hers secured was rendered useless as her midnight maiden slipped away, back into the darkness._

"Ashley?"

Ashley looked up to the sound of Brie's voice. Brianne's voice was distinctly different from the husky warmth that consumed her nights. For a fleeting moment her deceptive mind mistook Brianne's presence to be her. But Brie wasn't her. Her frame too petite, her presence anxious, hurried, on a schedule. The tone of her voice was an octave higher, lacking the natural sleepy yet homely gruffness.

"Asshhhhyy..." Brianne drawled, her name in a sing song voice. Brie, her marketing director, her consultant, her best friend, her rock.

Ashley frowned, her nose crinkled in distaste at the pet name. "Do not call me that."

"What's wrong baby?" She felt the mattress shift, as Brie placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

It felt wrong having another person touch her. Especially here, in the presence of 'her' ghost, 'her' memory, their memory. Ashley moved from the attempted embrace. "This isn't going to work," she declared.

"I knew you'd see it my way!" Brianne exclaimed. "I'll call up Glen tell him to cancel the meeting and we'll look up other locations on a lake or beach..."

"That's not what I meant.. " Ashley chastised before Brie got carried away.

Brianne's excitement died, midway through her rant of lakeside views, and bikini clad women, "A nice mountain then! With attendants dressed as park rangers! In short shorts! And hats! Oh leather short shorts and mounty hats!" She equipped herself with a pout instead of a frown hoping that it'd win her friend over.

Ashley smiled. Brianne Giles, can stand toe to toe with the most ruthless tyrants in the music industry, men twice her size in height and width, reduced to mere children with a flicker of her piercing green eyes. But mention even the prospects of leather or women, or leather clad women, Ball Bustin' Brie will voluntarily drown herself and succumb to a comatose state. Lost in her own goddamn fantasies for hours. Ashley was impressed by Brie's attempt to talk her out of her choice of location. Ashley expected Brie to encourage the restoration of the old whore house.

"It's not going to work Brie. I can't see your infamous pout, its dark." Really. Brianne can be such a child, a pouty starving child released to reek havoc on Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, or rather Pervy Patty's Pussy Palace.

"I give up. What did you mean then?" Brie dramatically sighed.

"This room isn't big enough. It's too cramped," Ashley motioned around the room. "The entire building is too cramped. It's falling apart. Everything has to go! We'll make it big. This'll be the grandest suite, once construction is completed." Ashley declared, coming to terms with her resolve. "Forget restoration. I want this building demolished by Wednesday, and ground to break by the end of the week."

"Ashley! That's insane. We haven't even decided on a design. We haven't hired contractors for the demolition, or construction. I really think we should discuss this with Glen and Kyla before..."

"Make it happen," Ashley responded, as she made her way towards the door. Pulling out her designer sun glasses, to help defend against the natural brightness of sunlight.

"Ashley!" Brianne called again stomping her foot out of frustration.

"Move it Giles, we've got a press conference to attend!" was the distant beckoning of the Davies heiress.

* * *

"Miss Davies, you've a lot of history in this town. Not all positive. Why here? Why now and why a hotel?"

"What no foreplay? Still _straight_ to the point I see," Ashley smirked at the red head, rewarded with a slight blush followed by an eye roll. Tracy Luvins was hot. Even hotter pissed off. Apparently, the redhead was now the head news anchor, reporter, and weather specialist at the local news station. "Still riding stick, Trace?" Ashley asked. In high school Tracy embedded her heterosexuality bluntly to evade Ashley's advances.

In true ex-cheerleader fashion, Tracy rolled her eyes. Of course she was accustomed to deflecting the charms of this particular Davies. In high school, Ashley Davies was ever persistent to bed her. "Miss Davies, the question." Girls would throw down just to receive attention from a Davies girl, any Davies girl. If things had been different, Tracy would've jumped at a chance to have Ashley Davies jump her, but things had been different, and bedding Ashley Davies would've cost her another go with another Davies. It wasn't worth it back then, but now seeing the sexy cocky brunette again, she had no qualms if Ashley Davies was still interested.

"Right, me and this town. I don't have the greatest reputation here. Hey you went to school with me, you knew me during my fuc—" Ashley had to bite her tongue, she looked at her publicist, who was silently threatening her with his piercing blue eyes. "This town brings back a lot of bad memories, but at the same time, it's a cornerstone of my youth. Not that I'm old. This town helped shape me. I know now that I can't escape the past. No one can. We all need to face our ghosts sometime." Ashley spoke directly into the camera. _"Come back!"_ her eyes tried to transmute. "The Davies have lived in this town since our founding fathers found it," Ashley reminded the redhead. "I don't see that many villagers with pitchforks barring my return today."

"Why a hotel? Accommodation and hospitality, not really your forte, is it," Tracy responded, the Davies fortune primarily rested in old money. Money that has always been in the family, just there at their disposal. They've always been 'the' wealthy family. Generations survived off pure luck and smart but whimsical investments here and there. Holding shares in production studios in Hollywood, a few shares in pharmaceuticals companies, even a few in publishing. Smart investments, pure luck and the Davies charm go a long way. Of course their wealth wouldn't last forever, considering the latest generation pre Ashley Davies, dwindled away at the family fortune at an alarming rate. It threatened the position the Davies clan held in high society. Everyone was waiting for the crash of the clan. Until Ashley Davies, 1/3 of the Davies fortune, took it upon herself to delve into the Entertainment Industry, starting her own recording label. No longer were the Davies silent passive investors, but involved, vicious, persuasive and successful, at least so far.

"It's a beautiful town Tracy," Ashley replied. "The townsfolk are all pretty damn decent. It's a getaway. Away from the big cosmopolitans. I think a lot of people would pay good money to come out here to getaway. It'll be good for the town's economy, and increase business, what with the jobs, the hotel will produce, and our clientele will surely adore, this quaint little town."

"And the location?" Tracy interrogated. This is what Ashley was waiting for. The biggest controversy, who in their right mind would build it over a whorehouse.

"The location has history. It has character. It's interesting," Ashley answered evenly. "I don't see anything wrong with the location. We own the land anyways."

"Are you saying that Voluptas was funded by the Davies?" Tracy asked, the journal inside her began to take over. A story linking the Davies to Voluptas to the Davies would sell. The title screamed at her, _Davies Pimping Local Girls!_

Ashley bit her bottom lip, trying to form a response. "Voluptas, has been around for generations."

_FOR GENERATIONS!_ Tracey smirked. Ashley met her eyes.

"Voluptas in its original state was merely a gentleman's club. When we Davies leased the land that was the business plan. Generations go by mismanagement and hundreds of other investments, we merely forget who we do/did business with." Kyla Wood-Davies, another 1/3 of the Davies fortune took a stand beside her _sister_. She usually made it a point to keep out of the public eye, opting for law school instead of her childhood aspiration to be an actress like her mother.

Tracy frowned, not buying that excuse. The other reporters all begin to jot in their notebooks, detailing Kyla's rare public appearance addressing the press.

"What are you going to name the hotel?" came another figure in the press.

Ashley met Glen's eyes dead on, and smirked as she recognized the panic in his eyes. She refused to call her hotel something lame like, _Ashley's Inn_, or _Cupid's Castle_, although she did like Brie's suggestion _The Island of Lesbos_, but she doubted that would go over well.

"We're still in the process of-"

"Voluptas." Ashley smirked with a smile. She swore she heard Glen cursing as the press simultaneously roared with questions. Her hotel, her resort, was taking the name of its previous owner. Ashley Davies was naming her hotel after a whorehouse. Who else but, Ashley Davies, would do that? She could feel Kyla's disapproving glare. She waited for the crowd to calm down. "Voluptas, was the Roman name for the goddess of Sensual Pleasure. We all know the history of Voluptas prior to today. But by this time Wednesday the old Voluptas will be in pieces. A new one shall be built in its place. Get your minds out of the gutter people. My Voluptas will bring a whole new meaning to sensual pleasure. It will appeal to all of the senses. In a month's time, no one on this planet will not know what Voluptas is. Just wait and see."

Ashley slipped her designer sun glasses on again, and exited townhall, leaving Glen to deal with the press filled room and Kyla to wallow in her own displeasure. Ashley Davies gets what Ashley Davies wants, and Ashley Davies is going to bring back her other half. Ten years is far too long, to be torn from such a critical part of herself. "She'll be too curious not to show," Ashley mused to herself as she drove out of town in her rented black BMW.

* * *

Preview Next Time

_"Make sure she's classy this time Spence. The last one was too trashy, even for me. And no more hookers, Spencer. You hear me? It was hard enough getting rid of that rash!"_

So tell me what you think.

_*ShyGirl1988  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Again I own nothing, cept the ideas, possibly the original characters, but at the same time my original characters were inspired._

_A.N: Hey hey, yes I posted this story on another site a few months back, earlier this summer. Thanks for the encouragement. So far I've got up to Chapter 4 written. I'm eager to get 3 out but am waiting to finish and finalize 4 first. I'm working out some plot kinks. I think I become obsessed with editing and re editing and making things work out. I have so many elaborate plot twists in my head, its just hard to execute.  
_

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**Shadowing Phantoms**

Chapter 2: Chasing Dawn

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Spencer Carlin woke up gasping and wet. Her nipples rock hard, straining beneath the lithe little tongue nipping relentlessly against her right breast, engulfing the tender flesh in warm wetness. Delicate French manicured fingers tweaked her left nipple, pinching and pulling at it. Arching her back for more contact, Spencer craved more, her fingers already tangled in ginger blonde curls urging the pleasure downwards. Yet those defiant lips remained stationed devouring her right breast.

Groaning, Spencer urged both their bodies upright, her one time lover still attached to her pert breasts, now teasingly meeting Spencer's lust filled gaze with her own wonton blue orbs. Gripping the blonde by the back of her neck Spencer forced the lips from her breast to meet her own sleep chapped lips in a bruising kiss.

"Don't tease," Spencer's voice gruff from sleep, or rather the inadequate amount of sleep she did manage. Her hands already trailing the length of her bed mate, noting the dips, the curves, coming to rest on a pert little butt, taking a cheek in each hand, Spencer began kneading the flesh roughly.

"Spencer!" the other blonde whimpered into her breasts.

Spencer grinned pushing the blonde onto her back and straddling her thighs, moving her hands to pin her captive to the bed. Spencer stared into her eyes.

"You're beautiful," husked Spencer's blonde bed quest.

Spencer lost herself in pale blue eyes, her probing orbs, dazed lost in time.

"_You're beautiful..." One kiss. Two kiss. Three kiss. _

_Spencer gasped as the alluring lips of Ashley Davies trailed down her naval. Her talented tongue dipping into Spencer's ticklish belly button. She cupped the wild brown mane in her hands, dragging those addicting lips back to her own. "You've never seen me," Spencer reminded the older girl, their lips dangerously close. "How do you know I'm not utterly hideous," she teased, capturing those lips between her teeth._

"_Because..." Ashley said, her bottom lip still possessed in between teeth, she took Spencer's hands hostage and pinned them roughly above their heads, pressing her breasts firmly into her lover's, Moaning as her taunt nipples' met Ashley's hardening nubs, Spencer released Ashley's lips, "...I said so." Was the cocky response. Lips teasingly trailed across her chin, "and I'm always right." Spencer felt the infamous Davies grin. "Your arms," those lips danced across her arms, "beautiful. Your neck," Ashley nip her neck, causing a moan, "beautiful. Your eyes," a kiss on each eye lid, "Your nose, your cheeks," a kiss on each cheek, while she squeezed Spencer's ass for good measure earning a moan, "beautiful."_

"_Kissable, Ash," Spencer mumbled, into the brunette's neck. "That makes me kissable , not beautiful." _

_Ashley ignored her, and brought their bodies level once again. "Your lips," she whispered, hovering above Spencer's lips. "I love your lips," she whispered dipping her tongue into Spencer's waiting mouth. _

_Spencer held a gasp, she could distinctly taste the liquor. The vodka. She released a breath, "You're drunk..."_

_Ashley was already lost, her lips claiming rights to Spencer's lips, devouring her, ravishing her, too far gone to care._

Spencer's gaze remained intense and dazed. It was as if she was possessed. Insecurity quickly replaced the wonton lust of this bedmate, who uncomfortably turned away from the intense grey blue eyes of her captor.

Spencer sat up and distanced herself from the blonde, her head spinning. She silently cursed herself for her love of vodka, and wished she loved cranberry juice enough to savour it virgin. Her guest remained stationed sprawled on top of the covers, as the clock radio woke with a shrilling alarm. 5am.

Spencer stood up stark naked. She took a moment to stretch her limbs before grabbing her track gear carelessly tossed on the clotheshorse the morning before.

"Where are you going?" her one night stand asked, seeing the delicious flesh being covered.

"Morning run," Spencer answered her voice monotone. The clock radio still blaring, she opened the door leading into her living room/office and kitchenette. Scrambling around the case files left carelessly about, she found her water bottle tossed by the foot of the coffee table. She took it into the tiny kitchenette sink to fill.

Spencer noted the chicken scrawled note posted on the mini fridge:

Take 'em and leave 'em where you found 'em locks. Don't take 'em home. Now they know where we live.  
Working on a new case. Won't be home for a few. Emerge 2.

xoxo  
-T

Specner grinned, crumpling the note.

"Wouldn't you rather stay in bed?" the blonde called from the doorway to Spencer's room, poorly hiding her modesty with Spencer's bed covers.

"No." Spencer mumbled coldly, still bothered by the memory that promptly drowned her desire for this strange woman in her house. Heading towards the kitchen window, she peered out into the empty streets. Dawn was slowly approaching. She was late.

"When will you be back?"

"In a few hours," Spencer answered nonchalantly, trying to locate her runners.

The other blonde was confused. They had a great evening, fantastic sex not three hours ago. Just before the encore performance Spencer started wigging out on her, giving her the cold shoulder. Now she was just going to abandon her to run at five in the morning.

"You've got a message," the blonde gestured towards the blinking red light from beneath the couch.

Spencer looked at the blonde confused.

"Your answering machine. It's under the couch," the blonde pointed out."Why is it underneath the couch?"

Spencer ignored her, she wanted to give the blonde a few hours to pull herself together before kindly asking her to leave. Spencer wasn't completely heartless. She didn't want to resort to emergency drop the bitch stage 2, as the note instructed. But the blonde was bringing it on herself by pointing out the answering machine. "Least it isn't in the bathroom this time," Spencer mumbled under her breath. She grabbed the machine by its cord and dragged it out. 1 new message. She hit play.

Soon the familiar sexy drawl filled the room. Spencer bit back a chuckle. "Hey baby. I miss you. I was hoping we could engage in a little one on one sexy time via the telephone."

The ginger blonde raised a poorly dyed brow at Spencer. "Have a girlfriend you forget to tell me about?" the blonde growled, clearly upset.

"We're partners," Spencer answered casually. The truth never sounded so funny. Partners. Her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I guess you're out. Ooo baby!" the voice squeaked excitedly, "Have you found someone? I know how you love strippers, babe. Is she a stripper?" she sounded hopeful. A pause. "Make sure she's classy this time Spence. The last one was too trashy, even for me. And no more hookers, Spencer. You hear me? It was hard enough getting rid of that rash!" her voice stern. Spencer heard the brunette smile on the other line, "Are you fucking her right now?" a little incredulous, "That's hot baby, oh so hot, wait just let me go get Rodney and I can fuck myself talking to you while you make her scream," there was a pause and ruffling of things in the background.

Spencer chanced a glance at her one night stand, who was starting to look a little blue, as she inspected her 'modesty' wrapped in Spencer's covers, checking for any signs of a rash.

"Can I-uh fuck-" another groan, "geeze I'm so wet sweet cheeks. You hear that? Uh-yeah!" Spencer sighed staring at the tiny patch of hardwood floor she could see. "Can I fuck her first next time, Spence? Tie her up. Fuck her while she eats you out. Oh yeah baby-" A knocking erupted in the background. "Spence babe, it's room service. You want to hear me service, the bellhop? I'll keep the phone off the hook-" Spencer immediately stopped the recording cursing the brunette under her breath.

Spencer turned to find her guest looking contemplative at her. _Shit!_ She looked interested.

"When do I get to meet her?"

* * *

Her blood pumping. Adrenaline rushing through her veins. Her entire body sore, screaming for release, being pushed to the extreme. Her strong thighs stalking, leaping forward one after the other. Forced that extra mile. She could hear the pounding of her heart beat, hammering simultaneously with the thumping of her rubber sneakers against the dirt rubble pavement.

Spencer's been running, chasing dawn for the past hour and a half. Dawn quickly fleeting, as sunlight began to illuminate the sky. The stillness Spencer craved daily already polluted by the presence of early morning joggers. She cursed again, for the delay in her morning routine. It was a race every morning. Spencer would wake at the crack of dawn and raced the sun to the highest peak in the city. Her early morning run was ritual. It was the only constant in Spencer's hectic life. The only aspect she kept the same.

Collapsing in the green patch off the jogging trail, Spencer lost herself in her laboured breathing. Her body sore. Her eyes firmly shut. Her head was spinning. Spinning from the high, the high of pushing oneself to the extremes. She indulged in this high every morning. Regardless of the amount of sleep she did or did not get the previous night before.

Spencer never did drugs. Never touched the stuff. But the effects, the high have always been something of interest to her. It was drugs that did her mother in, and she knew well enough to stay far from it. Even when Spencer was at her most self-destructive she stayed far from it. But then again drugs had kept her and Ashley together for as long as it did. It was drugs that kept Ashley in the dark for so long. It kept her ignorant.

_Spencer laid on her stiff mattress reading up on the screwed up lives of other people. Glen had just finished scolding her about playing with her life again. Taking it for granted. Blah, blah, blah._

_But he didn't understand. He didn't have to live here. He didn't have to hide. He didn't have the right to tell her she was taking her life for granted. No, not when he's the one drinking and driving. Drinking and racing. Partying it up with the Davies. Not when he's the one addicted to painkillers. _

_It was as much her right, as it was his as a teenager to take life for granted. They just had different methods of self destruction. Come on. All the cool kids are doing it. And Spencer Carlin was definitely in the in crowd._

_Spencer switched off her flashlight, and basked in the darkness. She loved the dark. In the dark no one can see her. She was no one in the dark._

_Spencer cradled her bandaged wrist. Imagining the cool blade cutting deep into her skin. "Stupid Glen."_

_The door swung open. A dark figure was silhouetted by the crappy lighting of the hallway._

"_Get the hell out of here!" Spencer yelled. Every now and then the clientele would mistake her room, or rather her closet as a restroom. "You've got the wrong room!"_

"_You can't tell me what to do-" came the slurred response, as the female figure ventured into the room._

_That's new. A chick. "Are you stupid? I just said this area is off limits!" Spencer growled._

"_No," the figure giggled, "You just said I've got the wrong room. You didn't say this is off limits." _

"_Get out or I'll call the cops!" Spencer threatened. "I'm underage." It didn't happen often, but every now and then a drunken John would wander into her room, and mistake her for one of the employees. But one mention of the cops and the pervy drunks fled with their tail between their legs._

_This woman, Spencer mused, wasn't like the regular Johns, Spencer contemplated whether she was fresh blood, or the rare dames that came into the joint. The stranger chuckled again, "I'm not stupid." Her voice bitter. "This is a whorehouse. The last thing you want is the po po's sniffing around this joint." She stalked further into the small room, closing in on the startled blonde. She stumbled over Spencer's school bag, tripped over her own feet landing on the mattress, half on the floor and half on top of the perturbed blonde. Her face resting on perky teenage breasts. The girl giggled into Spencer's chest, "Lucky me, I guess I'm underage too! You feel nice. Comfty." A firm squeeze for good measure._

_Closer now, Spencer could see her intruder. She recognized her instantly. Davies comma Ashley. "Get off of me!" Spencer growled trying to push the dead weight off of her. Ashley Davies, the billionaire heiress to the Davies' estate, ex-golden child of the school, now rebel without a cause. She was bad news. _

_Spencer knew her well, being a grade bellow Ashley in school. Spencer knew who Ashley Davies was. Davies' being a good friend of Glen. But Ashley never acknowledged her presence. Not that Spencer could blame Ashley Davies for overlooking the meek shy girl who kept to herself all throughout middle school. Spencer did not want to be noticed then._

_It was only in the past year or so did she break from her cocoon, and was admitted on the cheerleading squad. But by then Ashley Davies began to spiral down a very public self destructive path. _

_No one wanted anything to do with Davies now._

_Spencer felt a warm dampness on her chest. "OH GROSS!" she groaned, pulling herself away from the Davies' heiress. Ashley Davies just drooled all over her breasts. Spencer fled from her occupied bed. _

_Spencer took in the form of the big bad Ashley Davies curled up innocently on her bed. "Fine princess steal my bed, just don't puke on anything."_

_Ashley moaned kicking the sheets off the bed in defiance. Groaning, tugging at her shirt. "It's hot..." she whined. Trying to be rid of the offensive shirt, Ashley kicked off her shorts. Ashley tossed and turned tugging on her shirt. She ended up with her head of brown curls entrapped up her sleeve, and began sniffling. "Stuck..."_

_Spencer stood watching the brunette amused. She took in the creamy tan thighs on display and brushed off the wave of desire that flushed through her. She decided to take pity on the girl who had so terribly fallen from grace, leaned down and helped the helpless girl. "It's just so you don't suffocate on my bed, Davies so I don't have to explain to the cops why I was here, while you strangled yourself with your own shirt. I'm leaving, now. No need to thank me. Just don't blow my cover."_

_Ashley opened her dazed eyes. Her diluted eyes, gazing up at her saviour, "What cover? Who are you? Are you batman?" _

"_Geeze, you don't even know who I am!" Spencer accused bitterly, shoving the brunette lightly, and storming out of her room._

"_Batman?" _

If only that was their only encounter, rather than the first of many.

Spencer opened her eyes and tried to focus on her sneaker clad feet. Though her feet spinning it confirmed her suspicions about her choice in footwear this morning, on her left foot donned her worn out Nike runner, and her right foot sported a brand new Adidas sneakers, belonging to her flatmate.

She was in such a hurry to escape the confines of her home, that she didn't bother to check if her shoes matched. Again she cursed, her partner for the umpteenth time that morning.

The sun, high in the sky. It was time to get back to her life, and start the day. She stood on jello legs, and stretched her limbs for a few moments, before setting pace for home, hoping her bed guest had taken her three hour absence as a hint to leave.

Making her routine stop at the newsstand to pick up one copy of each newspaper on her way home, Spencer mentally went over her checklist for the day: nap, shower, check messages, develop photos, physio, meet deliver photos to client, cash cheque, pay bills, go drinking to celebrate...

Spencer winded down her pace, until she fully stopped at a Dunkin Donuts. She stood there inhaling the scent of freshly baked donuts, and mentally scheduled donuts on her checklist between her nap and shower. Nodding to herself Spencer headed up to her flat, conveniently located right above the donut shop.

Stopping in front of her door she read the inscription, "Tru Carlin, Private Investigations" She smiled every time, she thought of their business name. It was cleaver. Most people thought that Tru Carlin was one person.

Spencer was grateful to find the flat empty. Her blonde guest had left a neatly handwritten note folded and wrapped in a tacky golden thong. The note urged Spencer to call soon, a number, a musky scent and a name. "Candy."

"That's her ." Spencer mumbled already succumbed by exhaustion.

* * *

**Preview: Next Time**

_"Cold?" Tru grinned, focused on the hardened nubs of Spencer's nipples._

_"Your fault."_

_"What are you going to do about it?" Tru challenged, finishing the last bit of her pizza crust._

_"Kiss it better."_

Loadsa Luv

Shy Girl1988


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Don't own nothing but the plot._

_A.N: Another main inspiration for my original concept of this story was from the myth of Pysche and Cupid. I'm trying uber hard to make the plot sensible and believable, or at least make some sort of sense. I have the core of four done. It may or may not be updated this weekend. I've got some essays to work on for school. Finals really suck._

_Thanks for the reviews! _

_P.S. thismustbetheplace – what do you think of Tru now?_

* * *

**Shadowing Phantoms**

Chapter 3 Faulty Blondes

* * *

"That's disgusting!" spat an irate Ashley. Crumpling the latest design for the (or rather her) VIP suite, tossing it at a bored Kyla.

Construction was nearing complete. It's taken just under seven months. The building was up. Staffing and decor were their main concerns now.

"What? Don't you girls love shit like this?" Glen obviously confused by his boss friend. She was his friend when his efforts proved valuable and an idiot the remainder of the time. "I actually thought I'd get a treat for that." He even did research. He went all out; studying all the romantic hallmark clichés.

Kyla unruffled said design, and gestured a puking motion. "Seriously Glen?" kindly setting the design on the coffee table in front of her. "I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth."

"Show me! Show me!" Brianne's voice chirped, her physical attendance lacking due to pressing matters with a new artist's album release tour upstate. Through the magics of technology, the trio were able to accommodate and give Brie her 'say'.

"Remove it from my sight!" was Ashley's royal proclamation.

Kyla rolled her eyes, her sister always such a diva, she continued sipping her coffee, whilst scanning it over to email to Brie

"What's wrong with it?" Glen asked. Always looking to improve himself to better suit his girls. "It's romantic."

Ashley scoffed. "It's like arts and crafts day in kindergarten class, and cupid decides to drop in and just explode," throwing her hands in the air for dramatic effect. "Blood splattering left and right. Drenching everyone and thing in his cold blood."

"Red is a romantic colour!" Glen argued, violently grabbing the design from the table and looking it over.

"Hey don't ruin it! I want to be surprised!" complained Brie, "I wanna barf a little too!"

"It's the colour of blood!"

"Hearts are red," Glen lamely refuted.

"Not Ashley's," Kyla mumbled into her coffee, masking her voice in a lower tone. "Who said that?" Kyla aimed a grin at her sister, whilst setting her coffee down.

Ashley accustomed to her sister's craziness, brushed it aside and continued her furious ranting at Glen. "And the scattered body parts?" pointing out the headless lamps and random child head like bedposts. "The scattered body parts of children!" she declared. Yes, it only confirmed her theory depicting Cupid's suicidal massacre of children.

"Its cupid," Glen answered lamely. "You know god of love, and whatnot. Cute winged kid in a diaper shooting arrows at people. Struck by cupid's arrow? You know, fall in love with the first person you see? Roman god." Like Voluptas, their namesake. It totally made sense.

"It's morbid is what it is," mumbled Ashley. "Come off it Glen. You're telling me that you'd pay a shitload of money to spend a night in a room full of dead naked- diapered-baby parts?"

"Well if you put it like that..." Glen mumbled defeated, taking note of the design again, "Not really." Glen pause, making one last rebuttal for his cause, "But romance never came cheap?"

Both Kyla and Ashley rolled their eyes at the stubborn blond.

"Oh wow," sighed Brie, finally receiving the email from Kyla.

"What do you think Giles?" Glen asked.

"It kinda looks like they're floating in blood," Brianne pointed out through the telecom.

"Drowning!" Ashley exclaimed. "It's a goddamn bloodbath!"

Glen sighed and inspected the design and chuckled, "Hey they're armed too! Yeah before nailing a hot broad, the last thing a guy wants to think about is the slightest possibility of babies and paternity tests in the not so distant future."

Ashley sighed, she points out dead babies and Glen processes babies, not dead baby limbs and parts, but babies equal zero chances of scoring. Boys! At least he didn't start spouting dead baby jokes.

"Actually Ashley I've seen motel rooms decorated to similar extents," Brie reasoned.

"Thank you!" Glen was glad to have someone somewhat on his side.

"Maybe we can do something a little more traditional?" Kyla suggested.

"Less tacky," Brie added.

"How about sandy white decor: foamy, serene. A seashelly look, just plain, simple and pure?" Kyla elaborated. "Maybe add a seashell shaped hot tub. If you want imagery Aphrodite was born emerging in a giant shell in a sea of foam. With the right lightning..."

"No lights. Absolutely none!" Ashley interrupted. "Screw traditional. Ashley Davies does not do traditional. Forget pure, white and blank. Think forbidden love affair. Raw. Carnal. Desperate. Mysterious. After all Aphrodite was notorious for her love affairs. There must've been times where she'd come to them in the dark."

"I'm sensing a Cupid and Psyche theme here," Brianne pointed out.

"Why don't we just throw the guests in a dark room with a box spring bed then," Gen snorted.

"Shut up Glen!" Ashley chastised. Although she did think the exact same thing, but when they reunite, Ashley wanted it to be perfect. "Continue,"

"Psyche was the most beautiful woman in the world, and Venus, goddess of love and beauty got jealous, so sends her son, Cupid, on an errand to make her fall in love with a beast. But upon seeing her he quickly falls in love with her. He challenges his mother and refuses to shoot his arrows of love, leaving the world barren and cold, empty of love, until Venus promises to leaves Psyche alone. Eventually Venus folds and love is restored on earth. Yadda yadda," Brianne began. "Sorry, I'm paraphrasing wiki as we speak, but it's a good story, okay," Brianne clears her throat. "So ya the goddess threat dealt with everyone goes back to praising Venus and Psyche for their beauty but no one wants to marry Psyche. I think that has more to do with Cupid not wanting her to be with any man but okay, so their daughter is unmarryable, so Psyche's parents go see the oracle, a psychic type of person back then, and leaves her on top of a mountain where she gets swept away by the wind to Cupid's castle-"

"Point Brie?" Ashley asks impatiently, tapping her nails against the wooden table now.

"I'm getting there. I'm setting the mood. Well the palace is well a palace and she has servants left and right, she's taken care of, and at night she gets some mad passionate loving from her husband. Best sex ever. But the catch is she never sees him. During the day she's waited on hand and foot, at night she gets crazy blinding sex, but she never sees her husband, she never sees his face. Their agreement was she can go on living her life of luxury with him, under one condition. She can't see him."

Intrigued, "I'm listening." A type of melancholy washes over Ashley.

"Well Psyche breaches their agreement one night. Waits for her husband to sleep, and burns a candle to peer over his face. She's stunned by his beauty, she stares and stares and the wax drips down and wakes him up. He's enraged. He was going to tell her the truth soon, he just wanted to trust her. He wanted her to love him for him and not because he's a god. But she breached his trust. So he leaves her. She cries and begs and begs. But he leaves her."

The room was silent.

Ashley was contemplative. "She left. She was going to leave anyways," she mumbled to herself, lost in her own world. It wasn't Ashley who prompted her to go. Ashley had always respected her wishes. Ashley was the one who was abandoned. It wasn't the other way around.

"What do you think?" Brie asked.

"That's a little heavy," Kyla sighed. "Unrealistic. Really. Sleeping with someone who you don't know?"

"Why do you think one night stands are so exciting?" Brie countered.

"Anonymity is hot. No strings attached," Glen agreed.

"Ya but to what extent?" Kyla asked. "You sleep with the person every night for a good long duration and you don't know their face? You wake up and they're gone? Who does that?"

"I like it, make it happen Brie," Ashley announced getting up to leave. "Meeting adjourned."

"Ashley what about the other suites?" Glen asked.

"I just want my suite like that, as for the others, I really have nothing much to say. You've heard my thoughts on the naked diapered babies and their weapons," Ashley said with a grin.

"So you're just taking off now?" Kyla exclaimed.

"Just let her go," Glen whispered.

"No! What the hell Ashley you've been so flippant lately. Grumpier than usual. You want this hotel, you want this here and yet you leave everything, everything to us. All you do is set deadlines, we're working our asses off here!"

The Davies sisters stared hard at each other, neither backing down, neither budging.

"How many dead babies does it take to paint a room?" Brie's voice sliced through the tensioned filled room.

"GLEN!" Kyla shrieked.

"What?" exclaimed the startled blond. "I didn't say anything."

"Sorry," Kyla mumbled at the offended man child. "It was a reflex. Brianne that was completely inappropriate."

"Are we continuing this meeting or not? I thought y'all hung up on me with the dead silence and all," Brie answered.

The room was silent again.

"It depends how hard you throw it." Ashley released the sigh she was holding and sat down.

Glen laughed aloud, while Kyla glared at her sister.

"How are we with labour, have we hired anyone yet?" Ashley wanted to brood, but she didn't want to deal with Kyla's bitching at the moment.

* * *

Tru hung up the phone smirking a big dimpled grin, proud of herself for the message she just left for her partner. "I think I outdid myself with that one," speaking to no one in particular. In fact Tru was sprawled out on her hotel bed, if anyone she was speaking to her wiggling big toe, whom she affectionately named Spencer.

Once upon a time, before Tru became celibate- a millennia ago, a young Spencer Carlin whilst delivering the cities' greasiest pizza broke her beloved big toe. Yes, the cute blonde, bless her very very generous sexual appetite, scootered over her toe, on her, quote on quote, "badass" silver Derbi. A Derbi, not a Vespa a Spanish scooter brand, but much cheaper and much more badass than a Vespa. At least that's what the blonde told her.

Now a quick run over by a three hundred pound bike didn't break her toe, no. That just made Spencie Jr, swell like a mother-ker. It was the backing up of said scooter, running her toe over a second time that cracked off part of the nail. The crushing of said toe occurred moments later when the blonde assisted her up to her broom closet apartment, all the while juggling six boxes of undelivered pizzas while dragging her up the stairs. Stumbling with full arms, mentally berating her clumsiness, and devising her plan to nurse her victim. Spencer's steel toed boot smashed the rest of the nail off Spencer Jr.

It was their bowling date later that week that effectively broke the little fucker.

_"SON OF A-!" _

_"I am so sorry!" exclaimed a flustered Spencer Carlin, finally dropping everything in her hands._

_"It's okay!" Tru grumbled, biting her bottom lip. She will not cry. Especially in front of this girl. If this girl apologizes one more time..._

_"Sorry! Please don't cry!" Spencer exclaimed._

_"I just need to sit down," Tru groaned through clenched teeth. Offended the blonde would even think she was going to cry._

_"Right," Spencer fumbled with her keys, to open the door dragging the blurry eyed brunette into her home._

_Spencer shoved Tru onto her bed, and hurried into the washroom._

_"Sit tight I know I have a first-aid kit in here somewhere, " Spencer took off into what looked like a broom closet. The apartment wasn't much just a single room, a mattress on the floor, books and clothes scattered about. Her kitchen took up one corner of the room where the microwave and toaster lived. It wasn't much, but it was more than what Tru allowed herself to have._

_"Forgive the mess, between school and work, I don't spend much time here," Spencer emerged from the broom closet with what appeared to be a brand new first-aid kit. She stopped and took in the brunette in front of her, finally taking in the appearance of her captive. A warm smile. "Hi." Cerulean eyes sparkled._

_"Uh…hi…" _

_"I'm Spencer." Her voice soothing, with a gravely quality to it. Spencer was still looking at her, observing her, but not in that creepy way guys leer at her, nor was it predatory or coy like the girls from the bars. _

_"Tru."_

_"You've got dimples." Most people loved her dimples, and often complimented her on them. Spencer's tone was not one in adoration but rather observant, with a hint of disappointment._

_Tru cocked an eyebrow and met the blonde's gaze again. She didn't know how to respond to that. "I was born with 'em?"_

_"Sorry," The blonde cast her gaze away, focused on the floor, hiding her blush. She clutched the first-aid kit, and knelt down in front of the brunette. She just realized how rude she sounded._

_"I'm sorry," she set the first-aid kit on the bed beside Tru and looked up into her brown eyes again, "…you're beautiful." The blonde quickly looked away again. She began to untie the laces to Tru's sneakers._

_Tru wasn't stupid, she knew she was hot, and she's had people complimenting her on her looks since she could remember, but the sincerity in Spencer's voice surprised her. She loved the way the overzealous blonde suddenly became shy. "Most people ask me to dinner first before they try to undress me," she teased as Spencer began to remove her white socks, gently stained with spots of blood. She wanted to see those baby blues again._

_"No, I wasn't undressing you!" the blonde squeaked dropping Tru's sock._

_Tru grinned playfully, "And the socks usually come off last. Got a foot fetish there Spenny?"_

_Spencer didn't responded she frowned disapprovingly at the nail hanging off of Tru's big toe threatening to fall off any second, "That's gross…"_

_Tru looked at her toe. Yup it was gross. She wiggled it. *ouch* Still hurt. "Kiss it better."_

_"What?"_

_Tru nodded, and wiggled it again._

_"Uh no."_

_Fiesty. Tru liked feisty. So far in the span of 10 minutes, this girl has assaulted her, fawned over her, got her feet naked, been shy and called her beautiful. Albeit she called her gross as well but, whateves. Tru crouched forward and captured Spencer's lips with her own._

_The blonde surprised at first, soon returned the kiss in ferocity. Apparently, it's been awhile. Their ardent embrace escalated far too quickly for Tru to register it logically. Spencer had Tru flat on her back, groaning into her mouth against an onslaught of wet kisses._

_This girl could kiss. Her passion untameable, it swallowed Tru completely. She laid there as the blonde possessed her. _

_

* * *

_

_The cool evening breeze tickled the goose bumps on Spencer's bare skin, stirring her from her slumber. Her face contorted in annoyance. She didn't have any windows. What could possibly cause a breeze? Forcing herself up off her stomach Spencer glanced at her front door, not even three feet away, left slightly ajar. A deep frown marred the blonde beauty._

_"Could've closed the door," Spencer mumbled to herself, perturbed more at the fact that 'Tru' did not shut the door on her way out than, the fact that Tru left while she slept. Actually Spencer found it amusing, a type of poetic justice, for all the times she's left Ashley as she slept._

_"Well you could've at least shown me where the bathroom was, or fed me before you assaulted then proceeded to pounced on me."_

_Tru stood in the doorframe, to the bathroom, with a box of pizza in hand, stark naked. She grinned at Spencer, "hungry?" waving a half eaten pizza at her. She been watching her for a bit. Not really having a specific place to sit and eat her pizza._

_"You're still here."_

_"How far can I go?" Tru asked, making her way back to bed and Spencer, "You've crippled me," teased with a wink, setting the almost empty box on the floor._

_If the brunette wasn't as hot as she was, Spencer would've reprimanded the winking. She usually found winking awkward and cheesy, an uncontrollable erratic flutter of the eye that she herself could not master. But the winkage was most definitely working at the moment. _

_"You aren't wearing any clothes," Spencer pointed out, her examination of Tru's wink extended to her beautiful doe eyes, her perfectly pouty lips to the nape of her neck down to her general nakedness._

_"Yes I am," Tru blatantly oogled Spencer's goodies, "your fault."_

_"I'm just full of faults with you aren't I?" Spencer responded in jest, allowing her eyes to linger on the sight before her._

_"Cold?" Tru grinned, focused on the hardened nubs of Spencer's nipples._

_"Your fault."_

_"What are you going to do about it?" Tru challenged, finishing the last bit of her pizza crust._

_"Kiss it better."_

_"I was hoping you'd say that." She leaned forward and caught a taunt little nipple in a kiss._

They spent the next twelve hours holed up in Spencer's den of sexploitation, finding fault after fault in each other, devouring the undelivered pizza, and each other in between

Tru wasn't the type to 'see' anybody a second time, to hook up let alone date, but the blonde was stalking her. Tru just happened to be, three blocks out of her way, in the neighbourhood, and Spencer perused further interaction by calling out to her and initiating conversation. The blonde even started up the 'your fault, kiss it better routine,' which ultimately landed them both in the messy apartment again.

Actually, Tru assumed that after six undelivered pizza on her third shift and disappearing mid shift generally makes one blonde less likely to be employee of the month, so dropped by to inform her of a job posting at Carson's Skate-a-Bowl as a server on wheels.

The wonderful establishment that employed the young blonde was conveniently located adjacent to the hostel Tru stayed at every so often. On the night of Spencer's first shift, Tru happened to be there with some inconsequential guy, who bolted the second the first tear was shed, the first time Spencer dropped a ten pound bowling ball on Tru's toe.

After spending four hours and thirty nine minutes in the emergency room with her, Spencer took Tru home and held her hostage till this very date.

Spencer Carlin saved her life.

* * *

**That's All Folks!**

Preview: Next time

"_Guess who I bumped into at the cafeteria!"_

_Betty continued working, as Spencer began making her way back to her room._  
_  
"Paula Carlin."_

_Spencer stopped and stared at her hospital wrist band, 'Carlin.'_

_"What she doing in town?" Betty asked distastefully._

_"Apparently she had to get some blood work done," the other nurse answered. "I don't see why she bothers, she's going straight to hell anyways. I saw her go into Dr. Thompson's office…"_

**Loadsa Luv**

***Shy Girl1988**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I'm just reposting this chapter, you know when laptops die and you lose everything. It happens often with me. I shall not bore you with excuses. Just I've re-edited this chapter. I'm so fickle with my writing, to the point where it takes from my inspiration to continue. I will finish this story I promise. I started this story eons ago, but gosh darnit, I will finish this!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. This is a SON AU, so I apologize if the characters are not Cannon, but again begin AU, that shouldn't matter.

* * *

**Shadowing Phantoms**

_Chapter 4 Obligatory Friendships_

* * *

Spencer didn't necessarily loathe hospitals, she didn't particularly love them either. Theirs was a love-hate affair, an obligatory friendship. In her line of work it posed more difficult to avoid hospitals. So many case-leads begin, trail to and more often than not end in a hospital. Add to that her aversion to common sense and lack of spatial mobility, she often landed herself as a patient within the institution.

Many of her earliest memories were that of hospital waiting rooms. Laying bare belly on the floor, colouring, munching on the snacks nurses would bring for her as she waited for her mother. It was the only time she was allowed cookies. A visit to the hospital often equated a mommy-daughter day out. They would always go for pancakes after and then sit at the park for hours. Although looking back, she couldn't remember whether or not her mom actually enjoyed their special time together.

Her mom was always smiling. There wasn't anything wrong. Ever.

_"Mommy just fell down the stairs again."_

_"Mommy's allergic to bees. The bee bit her eye."_

_"Mommy is so silly."_

The better the story, the longer Spencer got to play at the park after.

_"Mommy's sleeping. She won't wake up."_

That was the last time Spencer physically touched her mother, the last time she saw her smile, before strange men took her away and placed Spencer in a home with other children.

_Thirty two days. _

_Thirty two days, since those strange people took her away from her mommy. Took her to a strange house. Where she was expected to eat something different three times a day. Would scold her when she said she was saving some for her mom. They made her go to school. Made her sleep in a room with five other kids. Kids, always crying, or coughing, or screaming. They made too much noise. She was use to silence at night. She was use to sleeping alone. But every morning when she woke mommy was there. _

_Mommy wasn't here in the morning. Mommy didn't know where to find her._

_So Spencer left. _

_She walked out the door, careful to close it on her way out this time. This time Spencer left during the day. This time Spencer didn't stop and ask the police officer where her mommy was, or where the hospital was. She knew. She knew if she stopped and acted like she didn't know where she was going they would take her back to that house._

_Spencer followed another girl and her mommy closely, onto the bus. And took the bus right to the hospital._

_Spencer smiled. She kept smiling. Everything was going to be alright because she was going to see her mommy again._

_"Judith, that little girl is here again," an intern pointed out._

_Judith was an older woman. She was head nurse of the ER. She was just beginning her evening shift. _

_Spencer sat in the waiting room patiently, kicking her legs back and forth. Her feet couldn't touch the ground._

_ "Spencer?"_

_Spencer turned to look at the older lady who often gave her oreos. She was a little bit hungry. "Is my mommy almost done yet?"_

_"Sweetie, are you here by yourself?" Judith asked the six year old._

_Spencer shook her head, "I took the bus. Where's my mommy? She was being silly and wouldn't wake up last time. We're suppose to have pancakes now."_

_"Spencer your mom's not here."_

_"Where did she go?"_

_"Your mom's sick sweetie. She needs to get better first," the nurse took Spencer's hand, "Come let's get you home."_

_Spencer nodded in defeat. At least mommy could find her at home._

The nurse didn't take her home, the nurse took Spencer back to the foster home. It became harder and harder to escape the house. There was always someone watching her, but she kept going back. They had to move her to another house, and Spencer didn't know the way, now she didn't know how to get back to the hospital.

When Spencer turned 7, Billy one of the older kids had fallen out of a tree and broke his leg. The ambulance came and took him to the hospital. The next week Spencer climbed the big tree at the park and jumped. She had to stay at the hospital for two weeks. Any chance she had, she would find Judith and follow her around, asking about her mommy.

Finally Judith relented, Spencer's mommy was moved to "Sunnybrook Rehabilitation Clinic."

Spencer had seen how the adults used the phones. Children were naturally curious about everything. So when Spencer asked about the telephone and its' uses, it was a mistake to tell her that the Operator helps find the people you're looking for.

It frustrated Spencer that the lady on the phone didn't know who mommy was.

Spencer soon figured out how the phone book worked, she was able to get the address. She kept the address in her pocket at all times.

It was on a school trip in third grade, the class visited the museum downtown. On the yellow school bus, Spencer read the street names. "Richmond St." During the tour, Spencer strayed from the group and wandered the city.

_At the chime of the bell the receptionist looked up perturbed, no one was there. He saw a tiny hand reach around to ring the bell again. Standing up the receptionist saw a little blonde person smiling up at him. "Are you lost?"_

_"Is my mommy here?"_

_He looked at her. The logs his colleague left reported harassing phone calls from a child looking for her mommy._

_"Do you know her name?" he asked._

_"Mommy," Spencer articulated._

_"What's yours?" _

_"Spencer Carlin."_

_He keyed in the surname he began sifting through the files._

_Momentarily forgotten Spencer frowned and took in the cold interior of this hospital. _

_A woman burst through the door, as two orderlies tried to detain her. The receptionist sprung from his chair with a needle and injected in the hysterical woman._

_Spencer watched the scene unfold wide eye. Why would her mommy be in a place like this? Spencer ran out of the clinic. Resting by the side of the building she peered into the common room window, and saw her mother._

_The older Carlin, wasn't smiling, she sat in a wheelchair staring blankly at a television._

_Spencer sat there for hours watching her mother. Her eyes dead, her body motionless. _

_The receptionist had seen Spencer out by the side of the building at the end of his shift. She had fallen asleep. He called the local authorities who brought Spencer back to the foster home. Spencer was then transferred into another home. She was too much trouble. It was too difficult to keep tabs on her._

_Spencer Carlin was a delinquent and was bounced from home to home to home._ _Any chance she had she'd return to Sunnybrook to find her mommy, but her mom was long gone._

It was a few years later, on her 13th birthday, to be precise, she came face to face with a woman who wore her mother's face, Paula Carlin.

Paula Carlin, that name alone shook Spencer's very core. An influx of emotions tend to suffocate Spencer - shame, guilt, and longing- at the mere thought of the woman she resented but was eternally indebted to.

"Carlin!"

Spencer looked up to see who was calling her, it was the medical receptionist.

"Room 4205b on the left, please change into hospital garments provided," the receptionist directed Spencer towards the corridor to his right.

Spencer glided through the halls with ease, like it was her own home. Entering the room as instructed Spencer changed into the hospital gown. An intern came in to take her blood pressure, blood work and the necessities for her physical.

She knew the procedure, she's been doing it for quite a while now. A gunshot wound and falling out of a three story building takes a while to heal. If only she remembered to not drink the night before, she knew Megan will be upset later, when her results come in. At least she didn't have to get her stomach pumped anymore.

When she was 16, Spencer had to get her stomach pumped, for consuming a whole bottle of stoli's vodka. She was bored. It was her birthday. It was tradition. Well, not really but at 16, going on three years in a row, made it traditional. She's been getting her stomach pumped every year on her birthday since she was 13. But 16 stood out. At 16 she woke up sharing a room with Ashley Davies.

_Her mouth dry like the Sahara desert. The air required to flow through her body assaulted her throat, like nails being dragged down to her lungs only to be forcibly dragged back out, tugging at whatever siding it was that insulated the inside of her throat._

_Blue eyes cringed after being battered by an assault of florescent light. She needed water. Juice. Pop. Anything to quench the thirst. Odd, it's not like she didn't have any liquid recently, *not* she remembers clearly downing a liter plus of vodka, earlier. Funny that would end up dehydrating her. _Teenage Spencer was a sarcastic little fucker.

_She forced herself up into a sitting position, her senses tuning into her surroundings, metronomic drone of her heart monitor raping her ears. _

_Beep Bleep _  
_Beep Bleep _  
_Beep Bleep_

_There was a second monitor! Her head shot in the direction of the occupied bed to her right. 'I usually get the window spot!' Spencer pouted childishly, though it was more of an awkward grimace. _

_Whiplash._

'_No sudden movements, please! It's my birthday,' whined her throbbing brain. _

_Swinging her legs off the bed Spencer got up and detached herself from the heart monitor, ceasing the erratic tone that monitored her pulse replaced by the warning tone. Enjoying the familiar freedom associated with the sparse hospital wear, Spencer proceeded to the main desk._

_"Happy Birthday Spencer," the head nurse, Betty greeted her. "I was beginning to think we wouldn't see you today."_

_Her reply was a groan._

_Betty handed her an apple juice._

_Spencer greedily downed the apple juice, mumbling a thank you._

_"Arthur will be down to check you out in a few hours."_

_"There's somebody in my room," Spencer pointed out, peering over the counter for more juice._

_"She was already in there when the guys wheeled you in," Betty answered, setting three more juices on the counter._

_Spencer smiled, "Thank you Betty." Spencer really loved the little containers her juice came in. So much better than the juice boxes they served at school, what with dysfunctional little straws. "Will she be alright?"_

_"Don't know she woke up hysterical earlier, Ben and the boys had to sedate her," Betty responded absentmindedly. "Surprised you slept through it." Spencer's attention was fixed on the plate of cookies in front of Betty, and was non discreetly reaching for one. "It's that Davies' girl. Don't you go to school with her?" Betty slapped the creeping hand away._

_"Which one?" Spencer asked. She really didn't get a good look at her roommate._

_"The middle one." Betty responded. "Raife's daughter. The bastard. The one the old lady sent to public school."_

_"BETTY!" Spencer reprimanded, the older lady. You do not call a Davies a bastard, least of all Ashley._

_"Don't you Betty me, Spencer Carlin, where did you get vodka? I know Arthur doesn't leave liquor around willy nilly."_

_"I forfeit my last statement," Spencer mumbled looking away from the older woman. She could care less for the Davies and their huge piles of money. She glanced at her room, peering at the lifeless form that was Ashley Davies._

_"Spencer…" Spencer Carlin was a good girl. Quiet a lot of the times, never got into any trouble. She was always grinning, that one. It's only around this time of year, her birthday did the youngster deliberately go through lengths to be institutionalized. _

_It was unspoken, and most the town turned a blind eye to the blonde. Arthur Greene was a good man, and he requested that these episodes be ignored. The young blonde had a traumatic past. She was finally adjusting well, opposed to the troubled child she use to be. The older woman had to bite her tongue._

_"Can I get a different room, Betty?"_

_"Why's that dear?"_

_"I don't want the kids at school to know…" Spencer answered, gazing at the ridiculously clean white tiled floors. _

_"I'll see what I can do," Betty replied._ _Gertrude had specific orders that no one breathes a word about Ashley being institutionalized._

_"BETTY!" a younger nurse exclaimed, brushing past Spencer._

_"What is it?"_

_"Guess who I bumped into at the cafeteria!"_

_Betty continued working, as Spencer began making her way back to her room._  
_  
"Paula Carlin."_

_Spencer stopped and stared at her hospital wrist band, 'Carlin.'_ _She gripped her wrist hard covering the cursed name, hiding it from wandering eyes. __  
_  
_"What she doing in town?" Betty asked distastefully._

_"Apparently she had to get some blood work done," the other nurse answered, making air quotes. "I don't see why she bothers, she's going straight to hell anyways." _

_Spencer knew why she was here._

_The nurse continued, "I saw her go into Dr. Thompson's office. I hear the Mrs. packed up and left for her sister's a few days ago…" she paused and looked at Spencer. "Can I help you?"_

_Spencer shook her head side to side. She couldn't meet the nurse's eyes. Not when her own eyes were a mirror reflection of the shamed woman._  
_  
Spencer Carlin, you spineless wimp! She loves you!_

_The young blond cringed trying to drown out her own conscience.  
_  
_"Spencer you look pale go lay down, Arthur will be here soon," Betty instructed._

_"I didn't know Arthur Greene had a daughter," the nosey nurse interrupted._

_"He doesn't that's his niece," Betty whispered in a hush tone, thinking Spencer was well on her way to her room. "Her parents passed in a horrid accident years ago."_

By now Spencer had changed out of the hospital gown and into her sweats and runners, awaiting Chelsea's arrival. Patience has never been her virtue, after all the sitting around, the waiting, it was dangerous. It allowed her time to think to reflect, tor remember. No. Spencer was ready to get physical. Knowing Chelsea, she was going to get a killer workout now.

At this point Spencer needed a distraction, and quick, all these thoughts and dwelling on matters like Ashley fricking Davies, and Paula Carlin after ten years, is ridiculous. That life was over. Ohio was a lie, her life there was a lie, that entire life was a lie, that's why she was a private investigator, to seek the truth, to uncover the lies.

The door opened and a man entered.

"Ms. Carlin," the pretty green eyed man greeted her, "I'm Doctor Dennison, Doctor Lewis is preoccupied at the moment, I'll be treating you today."

* * *

PREVIEW

"Can I buy you a coke?"

"Excuse me?" exclaimed a perplexed Spencer, covering her almost naked chest.

"I'll give you back your panties." Spencer's superman briefs were being twirled on the little brunette's finger.

"What the hell is going on in here!"

"Uh-oh…"


End file.
